Father, Where art thou?
by Gabbo
Summary: *** New Chapter 5 *** Arriving back at the treehouse, the explorers find a child and a mysterious note, regarding the child's parents.
1. Father, Where Art Thou?

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction based on the story and characters that are the property of the creators and producers of "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World" syndicated television series.

I big thank you to my beta reader Jacqueline, thanks for taking care of those pesky grammatical errors. 

Ok so I ripped the tittle from that George Clooney movie but that's as far as it goes. I think? I haven't seen it yet. Well I hope you enjoy it. Don't forget to review. Almost forgot, I want to take a few seconds to thank all those people who reviewed my stories. Thank you, Thank you, you know who you are. And to those who haven't; well you know what to do.

Hit that submit review button!

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Father, where art thou?

Morning bustling could be heard throughout the treehouse. Everyone was extremely cheerful that particular morning, including a certain brunette. Her delicate fingers held the saucer and cup in place as she made her way to the dinning table. 

"You know Marguerite, you should really considered cutting back on that stuff." Lord John Roxton stood up to pull back the chair for her.

She ignored him and continued her daily morning routine. 

"Now, who wanted the scrambled eggs?" George Challenger came out of the kitchen, skillet in hand, ready to serve his fellows explorers.

Journalist Ned Malone barely looked up; he had been far too engrossed in his own journal. "Oh! That would be me." He pushed his plate forward and waited for the Professor to fill it up.

"Now on to those eggs Florentine," Challenger said. He seemed extremely eager to get back to the kitchen. "And don't you go anywhere because I'm not throwing away two perfectly good eggs," he warned Marguerite as he returned to the kitchen.

"I see you got your appetite back," Roxton commented; the eggs Florentine were known to be a favourite of the brunette.

"I never lost it, I'm just tired of eating the same thing day in and day out," she retorted, spreading jam onto her toast.

Professor George Challenger watched his younger companions' daily antics. His eyes glimmered with the hope of one day returning home to his dear beloved wife. _"Jessie!"_ he sighed. _Melancholy was not a good way to start the day_, he kept repeating to himself. 

__

Let's concentrate on the thing you got here. His inner voice spoke almost in a soothing tone. Glancing towards his fellow explorer, a slight smile formed in his lips. Focusing on the young journalist, he began musing. Malone never lost a chance to spend time with his journal; he breathed, ate and drank the stuff. The journalist was obsessed with his writing as Challenger was with his inventions. Then again, everyone had his or her ambitions; Marguerite had bluntly pointed it out. She her jewels and the urge to find her parents. Who would have thought that Veronica and Marguerite would have much in common?

The steam of the strip of raptor meat filled his nostrils. "Almost done." He expressed his delight in an audible whisper.

He had woken up particularly early this morning. Bored out of his mind, he had ventured into the kitchen to find Veronica on her way out. Like a broken record, he had expressed his worry about her going out on her own. But he knew better; she was capable of taking care of herself, and she had done so long before they got here. Of course, she had laughed it off, as she would normally do. He had been repeating the same concern for the past two and a half years now. He still worried, though; he couldn't help it. Telling her not to be late for breakfast before she disappeared had brought a smile to her face. She had grown accustomed to them, to the point she considered them her family. He expressed the same sentiments. He worried for them like a dutiful father. 

Slowly the elevator began to ascend. Within it a freshly bathed Veronica whistled a jolly tune. The fresh air had lifted her spirits up; usually she ran in the morning as part of daily exercise but today she had decided on a refreshing dip down in the lake. Standing in the lift's doorway she took the time to observe her family. She grown to love every one of them, even Marguerite, in spite of their differences. 

"So what's for breakfast?" she asked, taking a seat next to Malone.

"Marguerite is having eggs Florentine but I can make you something else if you want," Challenger offered from the kitchen.

"No, that's fine," she said as she picked a piece of fruit from the bowl. "I was thinking...maybe later, we can go for a picnic." 

"That sounds lovely," Challenger said as he handed Marguerite her plate.

"Thank you, George," she smiled gratefully. How she missed Paris' Nouvelle cuisine! 

"Count me in." Eagerly Ned responded. It had been ages since they had a picnic; and he would not pass up an opportunity to spend time with the beautiful Veronica.

"Yes, I suppose so. We haven't had one of those for a while."

"Marguerite?" Veronica knew that if they could expect a rebuttal it was from dear Marguerite. But even she enjoyed a good picnic as long as it was on her terms.

Everyone's attention was on the brunette.

"What?" She had barely heard their conversation. 

"A picnic," she repeated with the same enthusiasm. 

"As long as I don't have to help with the food preparation." She was a disaster in the kitchen; she couldn't deny it. 

"Then it's settled." 

Everyone continued his or her morning activities, each one of them secretly awaiting the forthcoming picnic. 

*********************

After a well-deserved picnic, the five explorers made their way back to the treehouse. They had held the picnic in a nice secluded area; dinosaurs never ventured that far and tribes considered the spot cursed. Everyone had been particular talkative and eager to enjoy themselves. They had all laughed and laughed at Malone's expense when he told them one of his childhood's stories involving him and a dreaded rat. Veronica could hardly restrain herself from bursting out with laughter, all over again. 

Falling far behind them, Marguerite and Roxton were involved in a flirtatious game. Roxton, like all men, thought he had the upper hand on his precious Marguerite. And like all men, he was oblivious when it came to relationships. It was Marguerite who held the cards in this relationship.

"Whatever do you mean by that remark, Miss Krux?" He arched his eyebrow in that questionable way he always did.

"If you can't figured out that remark by yourself; then I'm talking to the wrong man," she smirked as she left him high and dry and sauntered ahead of the group.

Malone gave his friend a look of understanding; he had been in the same shoes a couple of days ago. He just didn't understand women. He would have hoped that talking with Challenger would have given him some insight. After all, Challenger was married, and he was bound to have something to say in that respect. But no! He was as much a baffled as he was. "Patience is the key," Lord John Roxton had told him, "that, and listening." But then again listening to Roxton might be his best shot. He had indeed managed to break part of Marguerite's barriers. Not once he had given up on her. Through thick and thin...

Nearing the treehouse they knew something was definitely wrong. The gate was wide open. Marguerite stopped dead in her tracks at Roxton's warning Veronica held her knives ready for the intruders. 

Roxton, Malone and Challenger were the first to enter the perimeter. Once it had been cleared of any danger, they motioned for the girls to enter. 

Being the stubborn man he was, Roxton ordered them to wait while he went to check upstairs; the trip up was over in seconds. _Whoever had dared to enter there home had made a great mistake_. Soon he was inspecting every inch of the treehouse. No sign of entrance was apparent, until...he heard the most estrange noise. Creeping towards the kitchen, he saw it.

"What on earth!" He set the gun on the counter and slowly entered the kitchen.

Crouching down on the opposite side of the counter, he disappeared out of view. As he came back into view, clinging to his arms was the sweetest little boy. Tears stained his rosy cheeks, his blond hair was tousled, and small whimpers escaped his wet lips. Roxton did all he could to calm down the child but the child was visibly frightened. Walking to the balcony he bellowed for his fellow explorers to come up. 

Were they right? Had they seen a child in Roxton's arms? Malone, Veronica and Marguerite were the first to take up the lift.

On their way out, they were greeted with the sweetest child they had ever seen, or so Malone and Veronica thought. Marguerite seemed to back away to a corner of the room. 

"What's that child doing here?" Veronica took they child from Roxton's arms and he slowly began to cease his crying.

"I don't know. I found him on the kitchen floor." They were now joined by Professor Challenger, who was wondering the same thing. 

"There, there." Veronica patted the toddler's back. 

" Look what I found!" Malone came back from the kitchen holding a note in his hands.

"What does it say?" Roxton urged Malone read it.

__

"I have no other choice but to leave our child in your care. Please take care of him." He finished reading the note.

"Our child!" The words stuck in his mind. 

Visibly perplexed looks covered the explorers' faces. 

"Whose child and who was the father?" were the questions that were in everyone's minds.

To be continued...

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	2. Well, whose child is it?

I don't really need to worry about disclaimer, I've already put it at the beginning of the FanFic. First a big thank you to my beta reader: Jacqueline, she help with the goat sequence, took care of the grammatical errors and added some sentences to make the story run smoothly. Secondly a massive thank you to all those nice charming people who reviewed my stories. Thank you, it's really appreciated. 

Short chapter, but hey I've been pretty busy working on my others FanFic, which I'm plugging, go and read them if you haven't, just to name a few Missing You, The Wedding Banquet, The Call, Restless Spirits. I know shameless!!! Enough said! I'll leave you to read...

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Well, whose child is it?

Chapter II

Previously:

__

"I have no other choice but to leave our child in your care. Please take care of him." Malone finished reading the note.

"Our child!" The words stuck in his mind. 

Visibly perplexed looks covered the explorers' faces. 

"Whose child and who was the father?" were the questions that were in everyone's minds.

****************************

"There must be a mistake." Roxton took the note from Malone's hand.

"Obviously there's a mistake," Veronica said as she snatched the paper from Roxton.

"One big mistake." Marguerite joined Veronica from behind; she, too, took a gander at the letter.

They stared intently at the letter, hoping to find more meaning in it, but it said nothing more than what Ned had said. Both of the women took into consideration various factors that were obvious. Whoever had left that child in their care knew what they were doing. They would not have abandoned a child in the hands of strangers. 

Closing the gap between Veronica and herself, Marguerite looked directly at the men, waiting for an answer. However, when it seemed that she was going to get none, her brain began working double time. It was the law of nature. There had been a woman or two; which no doubt, they had been more than acquaintances with. Those thoughts did nothing but infuriate her, and she stared blankly at Roxton and the child. She saw the resemblance. The child had Roxton's deep green-brown eyes; the more she scrutinised every feature, the more she was eaten up by jealousy. Not liking what she saw, her countenance became sombre. 

On the other hand, Veronica was certain it was Ned's child. His blonde hair matched Malone's to a tee; everything about him said Ned Malone. Her shifting gaze continued for a while, back and forth, from Ned to the young innocent.

"Did they leave anything else?" Challenger's calm voice broke their chain of thought.

"No, that was it." Feeling quite awkward, Ned Malone stepped closer to Challenger. 

"How old do you think he is?" Lord John Roxton finally had the courage to speak up. The way the two women were looking him and Malone sent shivers up his spine.

"Oh, I say he is about two years old." Challenger was beginning to feel for his friends. 

"Why, you know who the mother is?" Marguerite snapped at Roxton.

His facial expression was priceless. Confusion and embarrassment warred in his face; he had only asked a simple question! "No!" he replied emphatically. 

"Marguerite are you blind? He is the spitting image of Malone." Veronica said. Lifting the child up, she positioned him at the same height as Malone. She was obviously seeing something there that the rest did not see. "See!"

Malone immediately backed away; he did not like where this was going. It wasn't that he was running from responsibility; on the contrary he thought he would make a great dad. But there was something deep inside that told him that this was not his child. True, there was a possibility of him having a child but not a human child. Wasn't Kaya some kind of water species?

"What, virgin boy here? You have to be kidding." Marguerite laughed at the notion of Malone fathering a child. She remembered clearly their meeting with the so-called fairy.

"Now Lord Roxton here has been with every tramp we've come across with. Let's see about two years ago you were with that..." Jealousy reared its ugly head. 

"Marguerite!" Roxton's eyes were wide with denial. He was appalled that she would even consider it. 

"No! Let me finish." She was determined to speak her mind.

"Now what is it that they say, Marguerite? 'Jealousy: it is the green-ey'd monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on.'"

Marguerite shot him an icy glare, sending him a message loud and clear. Shut up or face the consequences.

"I think we should be worried about how are we going to take care of this child." Challenger, the voice of reason, spoke up. Things weren't progressing at all; the women seemed determined to get to the bottom of things by means of accusation instead of calm reasoning.

"I think Veronica has everything under control," Marguerite remarked as she nodded towards the woman. The heiress, for the sake of her sanity, needed to know who the father was.

Settling the child close to her shoulder, Veronica began pacing the room. The child didn't last long; soon he was overcome with sleep. "I'll be right back," she said as she left for her room. 

After settling the child down on her bed, she headed back to the living room. "So! What are we going to do?" 

"Why don't Roxton and I head out to see if we can find some sort of clue as to who left the child?" Malone offered. It seemed like the wise thing to do; some sort of clue as to the mother's whereabouts had to be found.

The jungle beauty didn't seem to care whom were the child's parents. What interested her was... Why, after two years of caring for him, she just had abandoned him? Agreeing with the two men, she left them to go on their search. Grabbing their weapons from the shelf, the reporter and the hunter descended from their view.

Retiring to a nearby chair, the heiress didn't even bother to speak. She certainly didn't want anything to do with the child. _Not my problem_, she thought. She had come to a resolution. Picking up her book from where she had left it, she continued with her daily reading. Challenger did the same by retiring back to his laboratory.

In the kitchen Veronica began the meal preparations. She carefully washed the vegetables, dried them and headed to the chopping board. Slicing the carrots proved to be a hard task in itself. "Dammit!" she screamed in frustration as she embedded the knife onto the hardwood board. 

Regarding her female companion from afar, Marguerite could tell that Veronica was probably just coming to terms with today's events. Rising up from her seat, she headed towards her. "If it makes you feel any better I feel the same," she said lightly as she tried to put Veronica at ease. 

"I mean, just when I thought this man is the one, the man I want to spend all my life with...I have nothing against the child, it's just...that... I don't know!" Veronica raised her hands in frustration. 

"I don't see what you are worrying about, he's after all a..." 

"Not anymore," she remarked as she turned to peel the rest of the vegetables.

The heiress's attention increased at Veronica's wording. Not a virgin? Oh, _really_!

"Kaya!" Veronica ground out the name, recalling too painfully Malone's loss of innocence.

"Oh! I still think you are jumping to conclusions." Once again Marguerite saw no reason for why the young beauty worried. Kaya, if she remembered correctly, was a parasite or something to that effect. No human child could ever come out of that mating. 

"There's a difference. Roxton, if I recall correctly, has kept himself very much entertained in this plateau... of all places. Can't expect a man not to scratch where it itches." Marguerite concluded with disappointment in her voice.

"Malone is no saint!" Veronica vividly recalled his escapade with the Amazon twins.

"Neither are you," Marguerite retorted. Arching her eyebrow, she knew she had hit a spot.

"Touché," Veronica said as she pointed her knife, admitting that Marguerite was right. "But Marguerite, think about it! Roxton's faithful to you."

Marguerite's face softened a bit. "The same could be said about Ned. Whatever they done, that's now in the past." She squeezed her fellow explorer's hands, and thought deeply for a moment. Did she really mean what she had just said?

Stepping out of the lift, Malone and Roxton interrupted their conversation as they entered the kitchen. 

"Any luck?" 

"No, there's no trace of anyone ever having been near the area," Roxton concluded. They had in fact searched the outside and inside of the perimeter. There were no clues whatsoever, no footprints, no branches or twigs broken; well, at least no _human_ tracks. A couple of raptors footprints were all that they found. 

"The only clue with have is this note," Marguerite said as she gingerly picked it up. "And it's untraceable handwriting." She turned as an idea struck her. "What about his clothes? Most of the villages we have encountered differ in style and fabric." 

"I though of that and checked, but they are simple enough to have been made by any of the adjoining villages." Veronica continued peeling the vegetables.

"Had any of you thought about asking the child?" Roxton said, motioning to where the child was sleeping. He thought it might be a good idea.

"That's a good one Roxton, why don't you just ask him for his rank and number." Marguerite countered his idea with folded arms and a disdainful look. Sarcasm came to her naturally.

"He's old enough." He wasn't stupid but he had to ask. The child was two years old, and must have spent a considerable amount of time with his mother. 

"I'll try but I wouldn't hold my breath," Veronica said.

"Before any more paternity issues arises- I'll be in my bedroom. Call me when dinner is ready." 

Bobbing her head in agreement, she let Marguerite get on with her reading. Now onto dinner. They had an extra mouth to feed, and she had to think of something suitable to feed the child. A purée of some sort would be adequate; she remembered the times she had spent among younger children. Glancing at both of the men, she noticed the strange looks they were giving each other; they were obviously still perturbed by today's occurrences. She sighed. "Don't just stand there, one of you go and milk the goat. We're out of milk and I have a feeling we'll be needing more of it." 

Both of the men headed to the elevator, knowing full well that this simple task required two people. One to hold the goat and the other to milk it. Georgette was a stubborn little thing; the glint in her eye was very much like that of her namesake. Every time they got near the goat, she got angry. Assai had said that the goat was one of their best, but the little animal gave them more trouble than it was worth. 

Stepping out of the elevator, Malone and Roxton both gave an acknowledging nod, they knew what they had to do. "You get the leaves; I'll get the bucket." Both men left to gathered their utensils.

Upon returning, Roxton and Malone headed to the enclosure, slightly hesitant to enter the enclosure. Both stopped to look at the now irritated goat. Having sensed their presence, she stroked her left hoof back and forth against the ground. Her whole body was rigid, and her gaze was steady at the gate, daring them to enter her abode.

Shaking his head in disgust at the horned animal, Malone flung the leaves into the pen and waited for the signal. "I don't know how Veronica does it," he sighed. He backed away to a safe distance. The goat was no dummy; she knew what they were up to and refused to eat the leaves until they left her terrain.

Leaving the goat to finish its meal, they headed toward the treehouse base; sitting on the small bench, they both stared silently at the small pen. "Sometimes I think the goat's nearly as smart as Challenger," Roxton observed. 

"You're not wrong there." Malone chuckled slightly. His expression then turned serious and he turned his head to look at Roxton. "You don't think...one of us could have fathered a child, do you?"

Taken aback by his bluntness, Roxton blinked a couple of times and then said, "I don't think so. I'm not saying it's impossible but there's..." 

"You get the feeling he's not yours." Malone cut in. He felt it too.

"I can't explain it, but yes, I feel that." Roxton began fanning himself with his precious hat.

"So do I. You think this is some sort of joke?" Malone asked, almost wishing that it was.

"Who would leave their child as part of a joke?" 

"No, I guess you're right; they obviously knew where we lived."

"Not much of a clue, half of the plateau knows. "

Malone dropped his head into his hands in extreme frustration. "This is making me extremely uncomfortable. I was making progress with Veronica, and now this, it's thrown us out of the loop." 

"I keep hoping this is some sort of misunderstanding," Roxton added.

"You're not the only one. Can I tell you something...it's funny enough…Kaya...is the only women I've been with." He waited for Roxton to come out for some kind of smart remark or at least to poke some fun but nothing came.

"Then, you probably have nothing to be worried about," Roxton replied. He stood up and set his hat back on his head. "We'd better get to it." 

"Right!" Malone started after him. Whatever was going on in Roxton's head, it was best if he didn't ask.

Signalling Malone, Roxton entered the pen. The goat should be full now, and that would slow her down. He gently patted the goat, who could only stare back in disagreement on what they were about to do. Malone carefully entered the fold with the offending object. Carefully looping the rope around her neck, he pulled her out of the pen. 

As Roxton sat down and began milking the goat, Malone did his best to entertain her by feeding her some leaves. The goat was left with no other choice but to comply. Fighting back could not work now, as she was feeling heavy and bloated, so she allowed the humans to get what they wanted. Unharmed, for now; she would have something prepared for them next time. Roxton's callous finger worked nimbly, squeezing a good amount of warm mill into the bucket. Obtaining as much as he could, he dried his hands and headed to the lift.

****************************

Having secured Georgette the goat back into her home, Malone and Roxton entered the kitchen. The wonderful aroma of cooked vegetables invaded their senses. 

"Finally! What did you two do, talk shop with the goat?" Taking the pail from Roxton's hand, Veronica prepared to boil the milk to get rid of any offending germs. "Well, dinner is ready. Ned, why don't you help me set up the table?" 

"Sure, " Malone said as he started setting the forks and knife along the table.

"Roxton, can you ... " She was interrupted by the wailings of the small child. "Never mind, can you get him?" 

Lifting his eyebrow up in a questioning way, he wasn't sure he had heard her right. 

"Roxton!" She was busy draining the vegetables.

Giving no other option, he headed to her bedroom. The little child sat up on the bed, crying his eyes out, which seemed to worsen as he got closer. Picking the child up awkwardly, he headed back to the living room. 

"Hold on!" shouted Veronica. Obviously Roxton didn't have any experience with children. As soon as she held the child, it stopped its crying. Smiling back at Roxton, she said, "You just need to let him know you're there for him." 

"Easy for you to say," Roxton muttered as he moved to help Malone with the plates.

"Marguerite! Challenger! Dinner is ready," Ned called, as he settled the plates down on the table.

As the 5 explorers and their new member of the family sat down to eat, each member had its own preoccupation. Marguerite and Challenger had taken seats close to each other, leaving Veronica, Malone and Roxton next to the little boy, who sat contentedly on Veronica's lap, eating the smashed up vegetables. 

Unbeknownst to both Marguerite and Challenger, they shared something in common. They both thought that the child had no place in their home. Having no child experience, they stared at the child with disapproving looks that implied fear, fear of his presence and fear of the burden that he could bring to the treehouse. 

Veronica's smile, however, could not get any wider. She had never had a brother or sister. The closest she had to a sister had been Assai, and then later, Marguerite, and she could not forget Roxton, who acted much like her older reliable brother. She was more than willing to play the role of big sister to the tiny boy. The child had obviously taken a liking to her; his little eyes lit up when she talked to him. 

Roxton and Malone both shared amused looks as they watched Veronica playfully converse with the child. Eating his final spoonful, the little child began calling for his mother. "Mamma," he called repeatedly, banging his spoon against the table. 

"Mamma is not here," Veronica said as she rescued the abused utensil and tried to calm the child down. "I'm Auntie Veronica," she said to him. "You'll be staying with us until we find your mamma." Her tone was soothing as she tried her best to explain to the innocent child. He, for his part, seemed to be staring at her in an almost understanding manner, his eyes wide and solemn. 

"That's Uncle Ned." She pointed at Malone, who in return waved shyly at the child. 

"That's Uncle John," she continued. Roxton sat in his seat, not knowing what to do, but he managed to give the child a friendly smile.

"More like Daddy John," Marguerite whispered loudly enough for the rest to hear.

"That's cousin Marguerite. Don't mind her, she's a bit grumpy."

"Hey! I'd rather he know me as a distant friend than family. Besides, why do you get to be an Aunt?" Marguerite retorted, drawing her brows together in a frown.

Veronica hid her grin in the boy's soft hair. "We can't all be Aunts, the child will get confused." She knew that the heiress cared, much more than she liked to let on.

"More than he already is?" 

"I though you didn't care." Veronica raised her eyebrow, hoping to have caught the brunette in one of her lies. 

"Well I don't," Marguerite replied in a huff. Hiding her disappointment, she turned her attention back to her plate. 

"And that's Grandpa George," Veronica concluded. 

Imitating Marguerite, George barely looked up from his plate. 

"Whether you like it or not, this child is going to be a part of us. So you better all start treating him like family." Veronica's tone wasn't asking; it was commanding. "He's staying with us and that's final." Making sure they understood her loud and clear, she left for the balcony. She had enough of their childish behaviours. He was just a small child, left in their care for reasons only the mother knew and for reasons obviously stated in her abandonment letter. 

Realising that their family would now included a new member, Marguerite, Challenger, Ned and Roxton stared at Veronica. Who, seemingly, out of their group, was the only one mature enough to admit to what they all had cowardly been avoiding. The child had been left in their care, and as to why, it was because it stated in the letter that one of the men was the father. As they watched Veronica sing to the small child, each came to a realisation: that their new member, although small, deserved just as much care and attention as the rest of them did. He was their responsibility now. They would all co-operate the best way they could; apparently, as they watched Veronica cuddle the child and coo nonsense into his ear, some more than others.

To be continued...

Would the explorers ever find out who left the child? Will Marguerite & Challenger finally make an effort to get on with the child? All your questions will be answer soon, somewhere in chapter 6, which I may add is being written as I write this. Now, to speed up the process you know what to do. 

Hit that Submit Review button and make a girl happy.


	3. And We Should Name Him...

Thanks, to my beta reader Jacqueline her help is much appreciated. Now to all those people who review this FanFic, don't think I forgotten you, thanks for reviewing my story, it really helps. My sincere thanks to you. Now to all those people who have stop reviewing, what happen? I didn't scare you off, did I? Come back and at least drop me a line.

Now, a lot of you are guessing who the father could be. I won't say a word, you'll find out soon enough and those who get it right, get a cookie. Well, a virtual one, now onto the story. Remember review not only this story but as well as the many FanFictions that are out there.

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And we should name him...

Chapter III

Adjusting to having a new member in such close quarters hadn't been that easy. An entire week had gone by since they had found the small child. Roxton, Ned and Veronica were gathered in the living room; the little blond child was their centre of attention. Watching the child play was a treat for them. Their eyes danced with glee as the child demonstrated his abilities in the construction department. Clutched in his hand were small blocks that Malone and Roxton had made for the child. Carefully positioning each block in a tower, the little toddler laughed at his own progress. 

For Veronica, Ned and Roxton, the week had gone surprisingly fast. Each day had been a new adventure and brought new lessons for them. Even in the few days he had been with them, they had learnt so much about the child's likes and dislikes, all due to trial and error. Sitting opposite the child, Veronica carefully brushed a strand of his blond hair away from his face. She had grown so attached to the child that she never left his side. He expressed the same sentiments by following her around like a faithful puppy. Smiling broadly at the child, she watched as the two men seemed as enthralled with the toddler as she was. For Malone and Roxton, it hadn't been an easy transition, but they had surprised Veronica and themselves by how quickly they had become so fond of the child. Each claimed him as his own, in his own way. Malone had taken the child under his wing. He tried to get him to speak, teaching him words that sometimes were too much for the child's mind to comprehend, but nonetheless he cared for him. He was there when the boy needed him, like the dutiful father he would like to be. 

And there was Roxton. _He had come a long way, too_, thought Veronica, as a playful smile crossed her tanned features. While Malone spend most of his afternoons reading to the child, Lord Roxton liked to take the child out for tours of the beautiful yet dangerous jungle. Carefully planning his outings, he took the child for long walks that showed off the plateau and yet kept the boy out of harm's way. Who knew what they got up to! But so far, it had to be said that the little boy enjoyed the attention of the two men. He clamoured for both of them to spend time with him. Now that she thought about it, Roxton had been spending more time with the child than his precious Marguerite. 

Slightly cocking his head to one side, John Roxton's lips curled into a gentle smile. Watching this young child brought him so much pleasure. Letting out a chuckle as Neddy boy accidentally knocked the tower down, he remembered the now absent brunette. _Marguerite! Where was she? _Roxton pondered as he quickly surveyed the room. Marguerite Krux had, for the last couple of days, been keeping to herself. Not once she had seen her near the child. From day one she had expressed her dislike towards the boy. It was all a front, he knew, everyone knew it, or did they? True, she wasn't the friendliest person one could meet, but she was not the cold-hearted person she sometimes let on to be. In the last few days George and Marguerite had been retiring to bed early. They either locked themselves in their bedroom with excuses or they just disappeared. In the professor's case his excuse was lab work, and the heiress with chores. She had so many shirts to mend that the hunter now wondered where on earth she got the needles and threads. 

As the child's tower of block collapsed on the floor, the three adults watching him let out disappointed sighs. Tucking herself further into her seat outside on the balcony, the aggravated heiress listened to them gasp and ooh. She had sought solace out there, with the hope of some peace. But no, today was like all the days in the past week. Ever since they found the child, they spent all the time worrying about him and hardly paid any attention to her. They were giving her a headache; she could not understand all the fussing. It was just a child! Her face expressed her irritation; her brow furrowed in annoyance and discontentment, while her eyes flashed with a little bit of envy. Today, they were gathered in the living room, discussing appropriate names for the child, who as yet was simply "the child" or "the boy." She had excluded herself from the inevitable argument; they all had their ideas of what the child's name should be. An amused expression highlighted her face. She knew them so well. Shifting into a more comfortable position in her seat, she began listening to their conversation. 

"How about Tom?" beamed Veronica as she handed the child one of the blocks.

"I was thinking more along the lines of William," Roxton said, voicing his opinion from his position on the floor next to the child, where Roxton was helping him with his construction. 

"Thomas, he looks like a Thomas." Ned Malone, too, had thought this over and wanted the child to be named after his grandfather. 

"George is very..." George Challenger entered the room, with the hope of having a namesake. He was unaware that there was already one not so friendly horned animal, which not only shared his name, but also his stubbornness. 

Marguerite could only roll her eyes. She had had just about enough of them, as well as the child. Roxton, Malone, Challenger and Veronica could barely be heard individually as the argument escalated. Their chosen names did not go too well with the other members of the group. 

"Besides, you and Marguerite can name your own child William," Veronica snapped at Roxton as she protectively picked up the child, as if to claim him as her own.

That was the final straw for Marguerite. Determined to end the shouting match going on in the living room, she got up out of her seat she headed to the bookshelf to retrieve a piece of paper. "Here," she said as she tore four pieces out of the paper and gave them one each. "Write your choice of name here, then put it in this bag and we'll have someone draw one." 

The four house companions looked at it each other in annoyance but complied with Marguerite's idea. It was, after all, the only impartial way to do it.

"To make it fairer, why don't you choose a name," George Challenger suggested to Marguerite. 

"Fine!" she huffed. She tore off a piece of paper, and she, too, scribbled her choice of name down.

Once the papers were inside the bag, it was agreed that Veronica should be the one to draw the name. Eagerly, she slowly put her hand inside the small bag. After retrieving the winning name, her face lit up with expectation. Unfolding the small paper proved exciting enough, until she read the name. "Darcy!" She exclaimed; her tone implied dislike. 

The rest of the explorers, who could only stare down at the small child, shared the same dislike.

The faintest smile crossed Marguerite's lips. She hadn't given it much thought; she just wrote the first name that came to her mind. She had, after all, been reading "Pride and Prejudice," and she had privately felt that Darcy could not have been more irritating to Elizabeth than the small boy's presence had been to her. "Fair is fair, isn't that right, Darcy," she said, addressing herself to the child. For the first time, she gingerly stroked his silky soft hair, and he looked up at her fearlessly with large, expressive eyes.

"Darcy it is," George Challenger declared before there could be more arguments. 

A disappointed, and even pouty, look formed on the rest of the group's faces. 

To be continued...

Hope you like it! I know it was a short one. One more thing, you may have to wait a while for the next two chapters but they are coming along, so you know what to do to speed up the process review! Review! Review!

Hit that submit button! :) :)


	4. Babysitting

Author Note's: An enormous thanks to my beta reader Jacqueline, thanks so much for making the necessary changes. Veronica, Evil Irish Eyes, Steffi, Alekto, veggi5, Ascamelien, A.Windsor, Pam and Jaclyn. Thank you, for your reviews:) And the rest of you who are reading and are not reviewing you know what to do. I hope you all like this chapter, we have some bonding, a bit of comedy and finally we are getting closer to know who really are Darcy's parents. Yes, we are finally getting there. 

I know it took me awhile to post this, but I've hardly had any time to write, this last couple of weeks had kept me busy. But hey! At least it's finally here. I'm so glad you liked the name, "Pride and Prejudice" just happens to be what I had just watched a couple of weeks ago, it seemed so cute to name him Darcy. Evil Irish Eyes &Veronica, I love Mr. Darcy too!! Colin Firth what a hotty!!! Enough! Of my usual rambling and onto this new chapter, as the title indicates this chapter deals with the glorious job of babysitting. Hope you enjoy it!!! And remember to review.

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Babysitting

Chapter IV 

As the glistening sunrays crept inside Marguerite's window, underneath the covers a blissfully unaware heiress began stirring in her sleep. Shutting her heavy eyelids as quickly as she had opened them, the now irritated heiress began muttering curses to herself. _How much longer could she endure mornings like this? _The bloody sun crept up her window every day at the same time; she would have to sacrifice some of her precious scarves, as she needed the material for a curtain. She couldn't begrudge herself a little indulgence. When it came to her beauty sleep, no one got in her way, including nature! 

Shading herself from the sun, she pulled the blanket up to cover her head. Snuggling safely inside its warmth, she soon began drifting again into a peaceful slumber. From out of nowhere, her shading blanket was pulled from her face. Having been rudely awakened, her eyelids fluttered to protect her eyes from the piercing sunlight. Once again the sunrays lit her pale face. Her reaction was to immediately pull the blanket over her face. Now shaded from the harsh light, she momentarily greeted the land of nod. Again, in one swift motion, her blanket was pulled off her face. 

Apparently, her sparring partner wanted to start their morning altercations a little too early. "Roxton!" She shouted, "You are going to get it for this!" She wasn't in the mood for these kinds of games. What she heard next brought her abruptly out of her resting-place. The wailing of child filled the treehouse. In an instant, Marguerite shot straight out of the bed. There right beside her was little Darcy; tears were welling up in his eyes as he stared at Marguerite in wide-eyed panic. The sight was quite distressing. "Veronica!" she shouted, but when no answer came, her eyes narrowed and she picked Darcy up. Clutching the child tightly onto her chest and patting his back lightly to soothe him, she ran to the dining room. 

"Veronica!" she called again. 

Much to her distress, little Darcy wept uncontrollably. His little body was stiff in her arms, and he wailed around the thumb placed firmly in his mouth. 

"Malone! Roxton!" she shouted, as she turned her gaze to the men's rooms. A wave of panic crossed her pale face for a moment. Looking wildly around the room, her eyes finally alighted on a piece of paper that rested on top of the kitchen counter. Her name and Challenger's were written in big capital letters. 

"What's all the commotion?" A half-dressed George Challenger rushed out of his quarters. 

"It seems that we are on babysitting duty," she commented disgustedly as she slapped the note down on the counter.

"What?" He too read it.

"I can't believe they did this!" she snapped, her jaw clenched angrily. At the very same time, she tried her best to calm down the frightened child. Her hands gently stroked the child's back, and though his sobs were softer, his breaths were becoming quite shallow. He was having problems breathing.

"Challenger! Something is wrong," she said. Her worst fear was coming true. She didn't know what to do with a child, especially not when something was going wrong!

Professor George Challenger knew immediately what was wrong. Pulling the child's thumb out of his mouth would relieve him of the difficulty. "He doesn't seemed to realise," he explained as he removed Darcy's thumb from his mouth, "how difficult it is to breathe, cry and suck his thumb at the same time." It was quite logical. 

A wave of relief emanated from the heiress. She had wondered if Darcy had been in the throes of a vicious childhood disease that she knew nothing about. Sheer panic had been her first reaction. Speaking in a low friendly tone, she spoke soothing words to the child. She only did what came naturally and what she had seen Veronica do, when the child became fussy. Her efforts paid off as his crying soon ceased and he relaxed, and then his little arms crept up and fastened themselves tightly around Marguerite's neck. So tightly, in fact, that Marguerite was finding it difficult to breathe. She carefully disentangled his arms and gazed at him. She had to admit it; the child looked angelic. His soft golden hair, mussed by his crying spell, stuck up in little tufts all over his head, and those sparkly green eyes looked back at her with curiosity. 

"Where do you think you are going?" she asked as she spied the Professor leaving the room. "I'm not taking care of this child on my own," she informed him, but with an almost pleading manner.

Stopping in his tracks, George turned slightly back to her and motioned to his state of appearance. 

Marguerite had been so preoccupied that she had failed to notice George's dishevelled state; nightshirt hanged out of his trousers, hair tousled, and furthermore, he had only one boot on. A small smile danced on the heiress' lips. "On second thought, it might be better for you to put some clothes on," she said, letting out a small chuckle so contagious that little Darcy began giggling. 

Blushing slightly, George Challenger headed back to his room, but not before reassuring her of his eventual return.

"Well, I guess it's just you and me." Smiling shyly at the child, her index finger gently touched his nose; at her touch Darcy's little nose wrinkled in a playful manner and he graced her with a wide grin. Retreating to her bedroom, she proceeded to settle Darcy on her bed. Rummaging through her belonging she found her beige skirt and her violet blouse. Setting her clothes on the bed, she began to undress. "And don't you peek," she warned the child in a joking manner. 

Little Darcy's hands playfully covered his face.

Buttoning the last button of her blouse, she approached Darcy. "Ok, you can look now." Sitting next to him made her feel quite awkward. She had maintained her distance these past couple of weeks. The others just didn't understand! She had never spent time with children, she wasn't sure of how to behave or how to take care of such a small child. Even more than that, she was afraid that she might inadvertently do something to hurt the little boy. "Damn you, Roxton!" she whispered in exasperation. 

Little Darcy stared at her solemnly. She closed her eyes briefly and let out a breath of laughter, opening her eyes to see Darcy smiling back and raising his arms to her. _Takes a child to put me back into place_, she mused. Picking Darcy from the bed she headed to the kitchen. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving." She sat the child on Veronica's old highchair. As she headed to light up the stove, George Challenger came up the stairs.

"Need any help?" he asked, hoping for a negative answer.

"Why George, thank you." She handed him a plate with some fruit. "For starters you can feed Darcy."

"I was thinking something along the lines of cooking breakfast," he said, trying his best to avoid the impending task.

"No, thank you, I got it!" Marguerite dashed to the kitchen.

Reluctantly George Challenger sat opposite the child. An uncertain looked crossed his face, and he gulped. His last attempt to feed Darcy had been an utter failure. Picking the fork from the plate he speared a small piece of fruit. Carefully bringing the fruit to the child's mouth, he deposited it into Darcy's mouth. A hopeful look for the child's approval crossed his face.

Darcy's face screwed into an expression of utter dislike. Spewing back the half-chewed fruit; his tiny little voice commanded, "B'nan!" 

"I think you better do as he asks, I've seen what he is capable of doing," Marguerite commented in amusement. She had been unfortunate enough to be in the way when Veronica had tried to feed him something he disliked. She was afraid her blouse would never be the same. "Here!" she said, handing him the plump yellow fruit.

After peeling the fruit, George Challenger began to feed the child small pieces. The child seemed to enjoy it as much as he did. "Seems we both share a liking to the fruit," he commented as he continued feeding the child. "On the subject, a banana is the most nutritious fruit you could ever eat. It grows on a tree-like herbaceous plant, its Latin name is Musa sapientum, Mu-sa sa-pi-en-tum, mu - sa" George Challenger repeated the Latin name over and over to Darcy as he deposited more fruit into the child's mouth.

Darcy's eyes seemed to sparkle in delight as he listened to the Professor's educational lesson, his little face and hands liberally smeared with banana. Marguerite could only roll her eyes. Who could ever escape Professor George Challenger's lectures? Sitting at the other end of the table she began sipping her coffee. 

****************************

After breakfast Marguerite had agreed to take the child out. The reason she consented instead of pushing Challenger into doing it was because she needed to do some washing-her undergarments to be precise-and thought she would be able to combine the two tasks. Taking little Darcy by the hand, she headed to one of the closest ponds. Alert and ready for any signs of danger, she deliberately shortened each step with consideration to the small child, who at the moment was quite happy and seemed to enjoy her company. Eyeing him carefully, she noticed the small stick he clutched in his hand. 

"Where did you get that?" Concern was evident as she snatched the object, which her adult senses identified as danger. "This is not a toy," she warned him as she threw the stick as far as she possibly could. "If you want to poke your eye out, do it in someone else's care." A harsh tone accompanied her words. 

Little Darcy's eyes clouded with tears that began to spill over. Pouting, his tiny lower lip trembling, he looked up at Marguerite piteously. Looking down at him, Marguerite soon changed her mind; perhaps she had been too harsh. "I didn't mean it," she said apologetically, crouching down to look Darcy in the eyes. "It's just that you have to be careful. We don't want them to think that cousin Marguerite can't take care of you, do we?" Drying his wet cheeks, and again taking his hand, she continued her trek. From now on she would try to control her naturally flaring temper.

Arriving at her destination, she settled Darcy within a short distance of herself, somewhere safe enough where she could keep an eye on him. Sitting comfortable on top of a fallen log, she began to scrub her washing. Dipping it a couple of times inside the cool pond, she began scrubbing it with the mustard-coloured bar of soap. 

Keeping an eye on the child prove to be hard work. Little Darcy ran wildly around her, circling her; his little arms spread sideways, and he was imitating the sound of an aeroplane, no doubt Malone's doing. The sweet yet irritating sound was driving her insane. Cautioning the child to be quite, she continued with her chores. It was no use. Little Darcy romped around her like an excited little puppy. "Brrrr, brrrr," he shouted. 

Giving him a final warning that immediately went unnoticed, she grabbed him and settled him down underneath the tree. Taking her hat off, she placed it on the small child's head; hoping it would at least serve as some kind of distraction while she finished washing her clothes. He squealed in delight and reached up to pull the hat tighter on his head.

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About three hours away from the treehouse, crouching behind some bushes, Veronica, Roxton and Malone camouflaged themselves behind the luscious jungle greenery. They had been trying to catch dinner for the last couple of hours. Veronica had said this was a good place, full of wild boars and birds. So far, they had had no luck. They had even gone as far as building a trap, a bamboo cage. Its entrance was secured with a piece of string, which Malone was trusted with to hold onto.

"You really think it was a good idea to have left Darcy under Challenger and Marguerite's care?" Roxton couldn't help but worry. It had all been Veronica's idea. She expected them to bond, but Roxton wasn't sure that Marguerite or Challenger really _wanted_ to bond with the little boy. 

"They'll be fine. Besides, it's about time they made an effort to get to know him. Believe me, this is the only way," she responded, as she finished eating the remaining berries they had picked up along the way. 

"I don't know, Marguerite seems determined to avoid anything to do with him." 

"I'm sure they are having the time of their lives, he's such a sweet child!"

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Back at the pond, Marguerite was working hard on the dark stained muddy patches that now covered her once pristine undergarments. The foamy soap was slowly but surely removing much of the grime. Wiping her brow, she was startled as a flying object passed over her head and landed in the pond. Her brown hat slowly began sinking. Behind her little Darcy giggled, as he waved goodbye to the brunette's favourite hat. "Bye, bye." 

"Darcy!" She immediately reached to grab the hat before it sunk deeper, but she lost her footing on the soap-slimed rocks and fell into the water. 

__

I have had enough, her insides screamed as she came out of the water. An irritated, soaking wet Marguerite made her way out of the pond. "Ok, if is games you want you can play with Uncle George." Furiously she began putting away her washing. Looking down for her favourite camisole, she couldn't find it anywhere. "Don't tell me..." Her face dropped as she saw where it was. Little Darcy held to her favourite camisole, but it was no longer white, oh no! The child had dunked it in a puddle of mud and was waving the sodden mess cheerfully around like a flag. 

She took a deep breath to build up as much patience as possible, then she approached the little devil. "Darcy, can Marguerite please have her clothes back?" she asked politely.

Little Darcy's face lit up with mischief, and instead of handing the garment back, he began to run around her. 

In her anger, she began chasing the child, which did nothing but give Darcy the upper hand. Realising her mistake, she stopped in her tracks. "Darcy! I'm going to count to three, if you don't give me back my clothes, I'm going..." No! She would not finish her sentence; it would only make it worse. Ignoring him, she began walking away. She had not taken five paces when a tiny hand tugged at her skirt. Handing her the muddy undergarments, Darcy then held tightly to her hand. Obviously the child had been taught wisely. It was unsafe to stay in the jungle alone and he had realised what was going to happen if he didn't do as he was asked. Well, at least that's what she was hoping he would think. Either that, or Darcy was simply bored with the game. 

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"I think we got one," Ned Malone whispered back to his companions, as their intended prey entered their trap. The wild boar ate furiously at the scraps they had thrown inside the cage. As he let go of the rope, the cage door fell shut, shutting the enclosure. The trio shared a satisfied, hard-earned smiled, but it quickly vanished, as it was apparent that the boar was not the only creature that they had attracted. The roaring of a fast approaching T-Rex could be heard.

"Oh, no! This time we are getting what we came for," Roxton exclaimed. The chagrined looking hunter jumped in the bushes to grab the cage, Malone closely following him. Grabbing unto both sides the three explorers ran for their lives, a hungry T-Rex on their trail.

"We won't have a chance carrying this thing," screamed Veronica. "Just give him want he wants!" 

"There!" Malone pointed to a cave. 

Running for their safety, Roxton and Malone refusing to drop the prize they had worked hard for; the trio barely made it in before the ferocious T-Rex snapped his jaw at the cave entrance, missing Veronica by inches.

"Satisfied?" she scolded as she regained her breath. 

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Tapping her feet furiously inside the lift, the annoyed heiress vented her frustration on the absent trio. The "sweet innocent child" had not only managed to ruin her favourite camisole, but she hadn't even finished her washing! Flustered she stepped out of the lift. 

"What happened to you?" George Challenger inquired after the welfare of his damp and slightly dripping friend. 

"Darcy, that's what happened to me." She motioned to the angelic-looking child that now clung to her right leg. "All I wanted to do... was wash my clothes in peace, but no, it wasn't to be. Not when you're out with that... little terror. Look what he did with my camisole." She waved the filthy item as evidence. "Now, if you'll excuse me I'm going to finish my washing, in peace." Leaving Challenger to take care of the child, she retired to her bedroom to change her clothes before going back to the pond.

Staring questionably at the child George Challenger took him under his wing. 

Behind the flask, test tubes and unfinished experiments, George Challenger worked feverishly on his experiments. He only stopped now and then, to make sure little Darcy was all right behind the portable little fence Roxton had constructed. Staring at the wide-eyed child, who sat contentedly in a corner of the room, his serious facade soon turned into a happy one. Watching little Darcy played with the wand Dame Alice had left lifted up his spirits. He had been such a fool. Not only he had not welcomed the child, but he had been hiding behind his work to avoid dealing with the child. While he hid away, his other house companions had grown so much closer, not only with their friendship but also with the child itself. He really didn't know why Marguerite had complained about Darcy, he was the sweetest child, very obedient, not once had he misbehaved. 

Diverting his gaze, he continued with his work. Not long had he been at it when he heard a little whimper from the corner. Darcy had grown tired of the wand, and his little arms reached out over the fence, pleaded for the scientist to lift him up. "You want to help me?" Challenger asked. 

Darcy immediately responded with a brilliant smile. "I'm glad someone is interested in my work." Complying with the child's wishes, he picked him up and settled him on a chair near the worktable. "We'll start with something simple." Eagerly he proceeded to pour a white substance into a test tube, Darcy watching contentedly with his thumb again in his mouth. 

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An hour later an irritated Veronica made her way out of the cramped cave. Malone and Roxton soon followed. 

"That was too close. We'd better get moving before he decides to come back." 

"At least we made out with dinner," Roxton commented, gesturing at the angry boar. His roguish grin lit up his face in a flash.

"Good, because I don't think I could have survived another week, eating just nuts and fruits." Malone responded. He was immediately contrite. He did enjoy the meat, but he hadn't meant to put their lives at risk.

Veronica just heaved a deep sight at her two fellow companions. She had had enough for one day. "You two done chatting? Because I want to get home, before our good friend the T-Rex decides to try again." Half annoyed, she took the lead. 

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After spending half the day with Darcy, George Challenger finally grew tired. He appreciated his company but he had enough for the day. Stepping out of the lab, he grabbed Darcy's hand to help him up the stairs. Slowly reaching the top he called for his fellow explorer. " Marguerite!" he called as he entered the kitchen. 

"Is dinner ready?" she asked as she exited her room.

"I thought it was your turn to cook."

"Not bloody likely," she retorted.

He immediately covered Darcy's ears. "I think you better watch your language, we don't want the child to..." 

"I get the point, but you don't seriously expect me to cook?"

"I suppose you're right, heavens knows you might even give us food poisoning." he joked. "Just boil some vegetables, mash them..."

"And then we see if you are still alive by the end of it." She finished his sentence ruefully. It was a fact that she was no chef; nearly all of her attempts had been disasters, and the few that were edible she could not figure out how to repeat. 

"Well, we'll see. It can be that bad." He reconsidered his words. Well, it could. He had seen and tasted most of Marguerite's attempts at the culinary arts, and to say the least, like his good wife, she was better out of the kitchen. But this time it couldn't go wrong. It was vegetables and a small piece of raptor, which they reserved for the little chap. The child couldn't live on vegetables alone. Settling Darcy on top of the carpet, he handed him his blocks and he sat down near the child. He needed to rest his eyes for a while. 

The needed rest soon turned into a half an hour nap, which gave the heiress some private time to observe the child. She had lost count of the many attempts he had done to construct his tower. He still didn't give up; he kept trying.

Approaching the child, she sat down next to him. "Why don't we try building a pyramid? Here, I'll show you." She took the small block from his hands and began building one. All the while Darcy stared at her every move attentively. Placing the last block, she stood to admire her work. Little Darcy clapped his hands vigorously. But it soon came to an end as his foot collided with the structure, sending it crashing to the ground. 

To Marguerite's surprise he didn't cry; instead, he proceeded to build a pyramid of his own. Leaving him to it, she headed back to the kitchen. She had learned the hard way that it was best to remain in the kitchen until dinner was ready. Otherwise it would be well done enough to be inedible. After she finished seasoning the raptor meat, her eyes caught the most amazing sight. Finally, she understood the satisfaction that Malone, Roxton and Veronica took in observing the child. Little Darcy had finished his pyramid. A small tear trickled down her face, but this time it was tear of happiness. Wiping it as quickly as it had come down, she noticed that the Professor was wide-awake. 

"That's smells wonderful." George paid his compliment as he walked over and tasted some of the vegetables. " Not to bland, not too hard, just right." 

"Thank you, George. I'm glad someone appreciates my efforts. Let's just hope that fussball over there likes it." 

"I'm sure it'll be fine," he reassured her. "Should I sit him down?"

She nodded. After making sure she mashed all the vegetables, she continued to cut the meat into tiny pieces. Each piece was measured for such a tiny little mouth. Satisfied with the outcome, she headed towards Darcy, who contentedly banged his spoon against the table. Taking a seat in front of the child, she looked at him questionably. Filling the spoon with some mashed vegetables and meat, she stopped short. "How's that juice coming?" she asked the professor. 

"Done." He placed a glass filled with an orange liquid in the table. "Didn't put too much sugar, we don't want to rot his baby teeth." 

"I think you better feed him," he said, motioning toward the child, whose little hands were extended and almost reaching the food-filled spoon.

An awkward smiled played on her lips. Unsure of the reception, she fed Darcy his first spoonful. The boy accepted his dinner without a fuss, and chewed each bite slowly, giving Marguerite enough time to eat as well. 

Watching the odd occurrence from across the table, George Challenger marvelled. Who would have thought that Marguerite was capable of cooking a meal? Most of her attempts always ended in failure. She either burned them, undercooked them, or just prepared something completely inedible. Now she had made an edible meal, and there was more. He had watched Marguerite as she taught the child how to build the pyramid; he had also seen the tear. He had too learnt a lot from the child today. He didn't detest children as much as he thought he would. The little boy had been clinging to his every word. He wasn't really that much of a burden. 

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The retreating form of Marguerite made her way inside a small room, her arms laden with various fancy glass bottles. Her gaze fell immediately in the small tub that lay within the small room. Setting down the bottles on a small table, she studied them carefully before deciding on the purple one. Approaching the filled tub, she proceeded to pour the white gooey liquid into the warm water, and steamed scent greeted her senses. Immersing her hands in the warm water, she began working on the bubbles, vigorously shaking her hand, and eliciting waves in the small container. Bubbles began forming. The white foam began filling the bathtub rapidly. Smiling broadly she stood up and disappeared out of the room for some seconds, re-entering the room with two towels. Setting them down on the table she called for George, who was at the moment entertaining Darcy before his bath. 

George Challenger entered the room immediately, Darcy in his arms. Handing the child to Marguerite he retreated as quickly as he had entered. 

Marguerite smiled broadly at Darcy. Kneeling down to his level, she began undressing the little boy. Removing his last clothing, she lifted the child up and deposited him in the tub. Darcy seemed to enjoy it immensely. Almost immediately his little hands began splashing her with water. Retreating back she held her hands in front of her trying her best to avoid the showering water; having failed without a doubt, she now joined in the fun by splashing the child back. He went into a fit of giggles at her actions. "OK, that's enough, we can't stay here all day, we wouldn't want you to get all wrinkly like a prune." Grabbing the small towel, she began to the laborious task of cleaning him. Once done she began shampooing his fine hair. Some of her expensive shampoo was used; it was a measure of the regard she was beginning to feel for the child that she used it. She usually reserved for special occasions. Especially when she knew she was going to be spending time with that special someone. 

"All done," she said as she poured the remaining water from the bucket on his hair. She carefully stood him up and nimbly wrapped him tightly inside the towel, and then she headed to back to her bedroom. She had found a pair of pyjamas in Veronica's bedroom. Putting them on little Darcy, she began brushing his blond hair. 

"It's getting kind of late. Uncle John, Uncle Ned and Auntie Veronica should have been back by now." A worried look crossed her tired features. 

"Roni - ca," Darcy repeated between strokes, and reached his hand up to gently pat Marguerite's cheek.

Marguerite let out a small chuckled at the child repeated Veronica's name. If Darcy had problems saying Veronica's name, she imagined that her name would be impossible to pronounce. Settling Darcy inside the covers, she headed to find her own pyjamas. She had already changed twice, and she couldn't afford to get more clothes dirty. Changing quickly into her nightgown, she looked back at the weary child. The day's excitement had left him tired. Rubbing his little eyes he yawned. Slipping quickly into her robe, she picked up the child and headed back to the living room. 

"We can wait for Uncle John, Ned and Veronica here," she said as she reclined against the sofa. Little Darcy snuggled himself into her lap and rested his head on her chest, popping his thumb into his mouth. "Looks like Grandpa Challenger has done a good job cleaning the kitchen, we'll show them that I'm perfectly capable of taking care of a child." 

Responding with a yawn, his little sleepy eyes stared back at her. 

"I suppose you want me to read you a story," she said. "Seeing as we are both comfortably settled down, how about if I'll tell you one of my favourites?" His snuggling closer to her was more than an answer. She picked up the blanket that rested on the back of the seat and wrapped the light cloth around the little boy. "Once upon a time, there was this little girl, who lived with some wicked stepsisters..." Not long after she had started, both Darcy and Marguerite fell into a peaceful slumber in the midst of the visit of the fairy godmother. Marguerite's chest was falling and rising in synchronisation with Darcy's breathing.

Standing on top of the stairs, a bemused Challenger smiled approvingly. He had come to see how she was getting on. By the look of it, the two of them were more than fine. Threading his way carefully around the sleeping pair, he placed the now fallen blanket on top of the two angelic creatures. Slightly backing away, he silently thanked the trio for having allowed a foolish old man to get acquainted with such a bright child. With one final glance he headed back to his lab. His senses failed to detect the intruder, a long visible shadow on the far corner of the balcony.

Casually the silent figure made its way inside the living room. Not longer protected by the darkness of the ascending night, it became visibly apparent it was a woman. A pair of brown leather boots covered her shapely legs, and her long blonde hair tumbled all the way down to her waist. Her outfit was made of leather. Her mini skirt swung left to right as she crept closer to her intended target. In all the weeks she had been watching them she hadn't expected to find Jason under the care of the brunette she had fought at their farcical, would-be induction. From her observations she would have been the last person to warm up to the child. Brushing the boy's sandy blond hair, she prepared to extract the child without causing any disturbance. At her touch, she heard the sound of the mechanical machine that carried the explorers up and down to the various levels of the treehouse. Hesitant on whether to take the risk, she stopped to consider her options. 

To be continued...

I know, I know more you want to know who's the father is, but I can't help it. It's taken me so long to finish this chapter. It's just that once I get new ideas is back to the drawing board, the finish product it's way different from what I'd intended at the beginning. I've change this chapter so much, that the first draft it's totally a different story. So it might be a while until the fourth one, all your question will be answer, I promise;) Anyway, I really hope you like this chapter. Don't forget to review. 

Hit that submit button! Your comments good or bad are appreciated. 


	5. The Whole truth and nothing but the trut...

Darn it, just wanted to say that I had this whole thank you list written but apparently it got deleted somehow. So here it goes...Thank you for all the review, they sincerely mean a lot to me. And also sorry for taking so long, well here it is, enjoy....

The whole truth and nothing but the truth

Chapter V

The slight rustling sound of the lift coming to a stop ended the heiress' brief slumber. Yawning ever so slightly, she pushed herself into a sitting position while at the same time taking care that she didn't disturb the sleeping child. 

Her vision clouded with disbelief and anger, as her jaw dropped in a display of astonishment that she would normally find rather amusing, if it were on another person. Not right now, however. On one side of the room was Roxton, looking a bit peevish, and on the other was his Amazon fling. She stared at them, her eyes darting back and forth, giving each of them her iciest stare. One part of her was making sure she wasn't dreaming; the other just couldn't believe the audacity the woman had to show up at her house! As a matter of fact...

Calmly putting Darcy down, she walked over to Hippolyta, and wham! Without warning, her right fist connected soundly with the blonde woman's jaw. Such force was executed that the blond beauty was sent tumbling to the floor. 

Shaking her hand in apparent pain, laced with a good deal of righteous satisfaction, the heiress stood firmly in her place with a determined look on her lovely face. "All right, now that _that's _out of the way; would you explain just what the devil you're doing here?" She wanted answers and she wanted them now!

The stunned woman on the floor rubbed her aching jaw, her eyes focused on the other three startled explorers who had run into the room. Surveying Hippolyta sitting on the ground and Marguerite standing over her, astonishment flooded their faces. 

"Marguerite that's no way to treat..." Challenger began tentatively as he made his way inside the room.

"An intruder!" She finished his sentence and stood glaring at the Amazon. By now she had retrieved her pistol and was pointing it very steadily at Hippolyta's heart.

"For starters, you can put your weapon down, there's no need. I'll explain everything," Hippolyta said, trying to appease the situation.

"You can start by explaining why you were trying to kidnap Darcy!" Marguerite was not about to let her guard down. For effect, she cocked her pistol and then aimed it at Hippolyta with one hand while with the other she protectively caressed the head of the sleeping child.

The Amazon looked over at the little boy, and a tender expression crossed her face for a moment before she schooled her features back. She glanced back over at the group and started. "First of all, his name is Jason, and I wasn't trying to steal him."

__

Jason! Suddenly it dawned on Marguerite._ Her Jason, her son! What a silly fool she had been! _Overcome with jealousy, she sank down into the seat next to the child. Her gaze fell on Hippolyta, then moved to Roxton and finally over to Darcy. 

Was she the only one who had heard Hippolyta? "Don't just stand there, Lord John Roxton, why don't you greet your little floozy, and your son!" she spat out, trying to ignore the pulse of pain in her heart at the thought of Roxton and Hippolyta together, creating the little boy. She looked down at Darcy-no, Jason-and stroked his soft hair. She couldn't bear to look at Roxton anymore. 

Perplexed out of his mind at this sudden outburst; Roxton looked at his companions for answers. Marguerite's gaze continued on the sleeping child.

Malone, Veronica and Challenger had also been hit by the same realisation that Marguerite had come up with. Their eyes, previously only deeply puzzled, now sharpened into reproach as they looked towards the tall hunter.

Roxton's first instinct was to look to his Marguerite. His eyes scanned her features for any sign as to what was running through her mind. At first glance he would not have seen how despondent she looked. But her eyes never lied! He took a step closer and put a finger under her chin to tip her face up to make her look at him. On closer inspection, he could see that her eyes were on the brink of spilling salty tears. A hint of anger glimmered in them as she gazed at him. 

Her eyes, the window of her soul, wore everything like a heart on a sleeve, at least to his gaze. He now understood what they were thinking. "You don't possibly think he's mine!" he exclaimed in disbelief. They must realise that this was just as absurd as it sounded, or could they possibly think that more went on than that of what he told them? No, Marguerite had been there. She had rescued him! She had to know that that he had never gone that far with Hippolyta! 

At hearing this last statement Hippolyta finally spoke. "Wait, you've got it all wrong! Jason is not his," she said, pointing at the offended party. Roxton raised an eyebrow at Marguerite, who blinked as her anger swiftly left her eyes. "Or his..." Hippolyta continued, turning to face Malone. 

Marguerite now understood. Her big greyish-green eyes doubled in size at this latest revelation; the tears that were not so long ago were begging to be spilled were now gone. They were replaced by a simple yet knowing look; she gazed at Hippolyta with a certain amount of cognition. It was all there in black and white. Her knowing eyes looked at the rest of her friends. Would the others figure it out?

Hippolyta's gaze reverted back to the sleeping form of the innocent child. Before she could say anything else, the young man spoke.

"Isn't it obvious, Marguerite? The letter was a con. She just wanted a place to leave Darcy while she went and did…whatever it was she did." Malone sounded very sure of his reasoning and proud of his deductive powers. 

How oblivious could they be? The heiress stood to her full height, considering the right words to say. She could not just blurt it out!

Hippolyta sighed deeply before taking the task of explaining what they had clearly overlooked. "No, I just kept it simple. I wasn't sure...I only meant to be gone for a couple of days, enough time to give me... but everything..." Her voice faltered. She took another ragged breath and continued.

"Our queen was taken, I didn't have time to think. My first thought was for Jason. I had to protect him. I didn't know where to turn; our enemies were seemingly everywhere. So I decided to leave Jason under the care of the only person I could trust-his father." Her gaze fell on Challenger. She noted, with some dismay, the dumbfounded look Challenger, along with the rest of the explorers save Marguerite, was giving her. How stupid she had been! She had exacerbated the situation by not putting things clear on that piece of paper. "I waited until you were gone and left Jason. I watched you come in. I should have explained myself better. I seemed to have made a mess of things." 

The professor, who had been listening to the story, was now rendered speechless. As soon as he had heard Selena's name, he'd had a clenching feeling in his gut. But now it was confirmed. He was the father! Darcy was his child! His, the one person they hadn't even seriously considered. His face suddenly drained of colour, and he felt light-headed. 

Noting the professor swaying where he stood, Roxton and Malone quickly moved to help him to the nearest seat. 

A couple of weeks they had had Darcy under their care, and all that time he had been under the same roof as his son. His thoughts whirled about in his head in a maelstrom. His beloved Jessie…how was he to explain this to her? After all those years of marriage he had not wanted any children. He had stated that clearly; he was a man of science and he did not have the time to devote to a child. But all that had changed. The plateau had changed him, as the people he had set out for the discovery of the century had changed him. His feelings were not the same as those of the pompous scientist who had eagerly led an expedition to find a lost world. When he looked at his fellow companions, he thought of them as family, as his own children, especially Marguerite and Veronica. What he had done was inexcusable! Would Jessie forgive him? He was a married man!

In spite of the tension that thickened the air, Hippolyta knew that she had to continue. "Our people have been in war for this past 3 months. Ever since you left us, there's been so much bloodshed. Our Queen decided that it was time to get over our petty differences, for the sake of our children, and for us all. So it was put to a vote. We would offer the deal to the men; we would co-live together as equals, adjoining both of the villages, and fight our enemies together. The birth of Jason united our people together; for the first time we Amazon women-warriors- were allowed to keep male children. Things progressed, until a couple of months ago. One of our Amazon women was killed by her husband. There was no evidence to convict him, none that we could bring to a tribunal, at any rate. We only had a confession to another man who was too scared to come forward again. Some of the woman rebelled against this, but our queen could do nothing. There was no evidence, and our treaty required that we work out disputes before a tribunal. 

"The crime sparked arguments everywhere in our two villages. Some of the men, and some of the women, felt that we must go ahead and keep to the treaty. Sadly, they were in the minority. Many of our Amazon warriors felt that the men were showing their true nature by disregarding the loss of that woman. They began to practice fighting in earnest again, not just the keep-in-shape fights, but fierce ones. Most of the men also began to say that the Amazons were not to be trusted, that they only banded together with the men to find their weaknesses and exploit them against our enemies."

Hippolyta paused and ran her hand over her face. The memories of the past few months seemed to weigh heavily on her. She nonetheless continued. "Some of the men began to act as they had before, denigrating the women and excluding them from many activities. Others joined, and before we knew it, we began to fight. Really fight. We retreated to our own village again, and the men to theirs. We fought a number of battles, and many on both sides were killed. We didn't realise how far gone we were until our enemy attacked us. They hit both of our villages at once, and we found ourselves fighting side-by-side again. In the midst of the fighting, Selena was taken. We didn't know until it was over. There were so many dead. Somehow Selena had managed to hide Jason-when I found him I nearly wept. He is our hope, and I knew that if the enemy held Selena, then they would come again for Jason, to break our spirits. So I had to hide him somewhere safe."

She broke off and scrubbed fiercely at her eyes, unwilling to let them see any hint of weakness. The explorers exchanged glances, and to their surprise, Challenger rose and crossed to Hippolyta. He knelt down and took her hands in his.

"Thank you for telling us. It was brave to bring Dar-I mean, Jason, to safety. Now, I think you need your rest. We can leave for your village in the morning, and you can fill us in on anything else on the way. Up you go." He lifted her to her feet and escorted her out of the room, informing the others that he was settling her in Summerlee's old room. Marguerite then picked up the sleeping child and carried him off to set him in bed, trailed by Veronica. Roxton and Malone sat at the table and waited for them to return. Their heads were whirling with what Hippolyta had revealed

A few minutes later, Marguerite and Veronica joined Malone and Roxton in the living room. 

"How do you think Challenger is bearing up?" 

"Surprisingly well by the looks of it, though he did seemed a little bit shaken..."

"He's got responsibilities; he's a married man! Marriage vows, believe it or not, are something which he regards as sacred, and we all know how he feels about children."

"Felt about children," Marguerite corrected him. She had had enough! It wasn't for them to be discussing Challenger's business. "Enough! Who are we to judge? And don't go self righteous on me, you with your voodoo slut," she snapped, pointed an accusing finger at Roxton, who refused to look in her direction. "And you, Ned! I know about Kaya, oh, yes, Veronica told me about that!" She turned to leave the room. 

Veronica stood up in agreement. "Marguerite is right! So don't come now with self-righteous puritanical thoughts. Its not like you two are the image of prudence. Though by your attitudes, I suppose that in your book, what's good for the gander isn't good for the goose?

****************************

Silently counting sheep, Marguerite lay on her bed. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, but they weren't staring at anything in particular. Normally attuned to every sound that jungle threw at her, she was instead focusing inward. Her imagination ran rampant tonight. She sighed in frustration as she realised that sleep was impossible, and quickly rose out of bed.

Donning her robe, she headed up the stairs and onto the balcony. She thought she had heard someone, perhaps...Roxton. She wasn't in too foul a mood to talk to him; perhaps a little chat would bring her peace. It'll be like old times. A hopeful smile brightened her gloomy features. Silently she walked into the dining room. 

Ever since Darcy had come into their lives, they had kept their distance, not his fault, but hers and her selfish attitude! She hadn't wanted anything to do with the child. Funny how everything changed. It took only one day with the little fussball to open up her eyes. She reconsidered for a moment...No! She corrected herself. Her feelings for the little boy had started to change after the day she had won the right to name him. Filled with happy thoughts of that day, she nearly stubbed her toe with one of the chairs. 

As she closed the distance to the main room, she became aware that the figure on the balcony was none other than George Challenger. His back was to her, and she stood silently; she did not want to intrude. His stance was that of a man pondering his existence as well as his recent knowledge of an illegitimate son. His brown furrowed even more as he leaned in against the railing.

Professor George Challenger was a private man. He rarely spoke of his life back in London; he mostly lived for the tales of his latest experiments. He only reluctantly gave details of his previous work when it was relevant to their situation. Everything they knew about him was from what Roxton had told them or from what they had heard or read in newspapers. She had done some investigation of her own; she hasn't been about to fund an expedition without knowing something about the man who was going to lead it. She had gathered mostly basic information, just making sure she wasn't funding a mad scientist on the brink of a mental breakdown. She chuckled ever so slightly as she remembered the orders she had given to the man in charge of the job. Her laugh, however quiet, still roused the scientist from his thoughts. 

"Marguerite?"

"Before you say anything, I wasn't spying. I heard a noise and simply..." She came closer and peered at the older man. "Are you OK?"

"Yes, I was just thinking."

"Oh, he's a lovely boy."

"That he is." He continued to stare into the darkness of the jungle.

"The little fellow grows on you," she whispered as a tender smile graced her lips. Challenger stared at her in surprise. Even though her recent actions had been more accepting towards the child, he hadn't known that she had become _fond_ of him. Her smile became a bit embarrassed as she returned his gaze. He suddenly smiled at her.

"Will this one of the many other secrets you wish me to keep?"

"No, I think we are safe with this one. It's not like everyone else can't tell that I actually like Darcy-I mean Jason." She smiled at the same she held his hand supportively. " If you need anyone talk to..."

George Challenger nervously smiled as he struggled to find words to explain what he was feeling. "I'm not sure how I'm going to explain this to Jessie. How I was unfaithful to her…" His voice trailed off as his face became serious. In his mind, he pictured his beloved wife, succumbing to tears. "I ruined our chances. She wanted children, but I was too stubborn, selfish; I could only think of myself and the greatest discovery for mankind I was going to achieve..." He silently stared back into the darkness.

"There's no excuse for what you did, but you have to get on with your life, George," Marguerite said softly. "It's not good, you berating yourself for mistakes that were made. Now you've got to look into the future. You have a son. If not for your sake, then you have to snap out of it for Jason's; he'll need a father figure, not someone that hides away in a corner ashamed of what he's done. It's not expected of you to run back to Selena and start a family." 

"It made all have been in a night of mistakes, but look what came out it: a beautiful boy. Believe me, George, I know how painful is not to have a father or mother." She opened up freely to this man who was the closest thing to a father she had ever known. Her voice was now trembling with emotion, as painful childhood memories gathered in her mind. The desertion, the unwanted feelings she had had all her life. "Every night I lay wondering about them, so many unanswered questions; who they where, what they were doing, why they had left me alone. I would have done anything just to have had a piece of paper to hold onto. Just to know a little bit about the people who had borne me, and a little about myself." She couldn't help the hot tears that escaped her eyes, and she started to turn away and hide her weakness. Challenger stopped her, placing his hands on her shoulders and turning her back to face him.

"Oh, Marguerite," he said as he embraced her. "You're like a daughter to me. If I had had a daughter with my Jessie, I would have wished she was just like you, poised, intelligent, beautiful..."

She raised her head as the pair of comforting arms loosened up. "As well as those hair brained schemes I usually get us in?" A weak teasing smiled formed on her lips.

"Ah well..."

She laughed. "Now there's no getting out of this." She felt Challenger's rough but gentle hands wipe away her tears, and she felt them crowd in her eyes yet again.

"No I suppose not, otherwise, as you once told me, life in the plateau would be a dull place indeed!" He smiled down at her. "Now, as your father, I urge you to go to bed tomorrow, as we have a long day ahead of us." His raised eyebrow sparked an infectious laugh from the heiress. 

"Yes, _father_," she teased back. She lovingly placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Giving him a reassuring smile she left him to take in the words she had said. 

In the far corner of the treehouse, Roxton listened as Marguerite made her way to her room. He had heard her leave her room, and had heard the low murmur of their voices as she and Challenger had talked. The playful endearing tone as the two had parted rang in his ears, and he slid down under his blanket. Whatever had transpired had made his beloved happy, and anything that brought so much happiness to her was fine by him. "Goodnight, Marguerite, and may you have sweet dreams," he whispered. "Maybe the one of you feeding me grapes by the stream." He smiled as he closed his eyes and took comfort on his bed. "Yes, the one by the stream..."

****************************

The sky was all shades of colour that morning. At the break of dawn the entire treehouse occupants had woken up. Now everyone was already busy making preparations for their journey. Veronica and Roxton were nowhere to be seen but could be heard down in lower part of the treehouse. Marguerite, on the other hand, could be heard for miles. Inside the kitchen she was trying to prepare edible food to take on their journey. Well, this time, she would not fail; it was mostly sandwiches. She felt infinitely better banging a few pots around, though, as she washed them clean.

__

At the least she was making herself useful, Malone mused to himself as one of the pans Marguerite was washing came crashing to the floor. 

Their guest was missing. She had left a few minutes earlier, insisting on checking the grounds for intruders. She had said that most likely she had been followed, and although she had taken some good measures to lose them, she still feared for the child's safety.

The child in question as of yet had not been woken. He had a long journey ahead, and it was best to let him get in as much rest as possible to guard against future crankiness.

Setting the food supplies on the counter, Marguerite headed back to her bedroom to make final preparation. She still had to pack Jason's things. She shook her head. It was going to take a while to get used to calling him Jason instead of Darcy. Her brow furrowed as she glanced in the little boy's direction. Her concern for the boy's safety grew with each passing minute. Surely there had to be a safer place to leave him. Hippolyta had said that once they found their camp, he could be left with their people. They would make sure that no harm would come to him. 

"Marguerite! Are you ready yet?" 

"Just a minute," she called back. She hurried as she strapped on her backpack and left her room.

****************************

The rocky trail that led them along the Summerlee River was rough terrain to be reckoned with. But nonetheless it was the more appropriate one; dinosaurs were hardly to be seen, and on the plus side, any oncoming savages could be easily anticipated, as the jungle foliage was scarce in these parts. 

Their journey had begun like any other; they walked, rested and walked even more. They also listened to the heiress' insatiable nagging. All sorts of complaints were thrown in their direction. She had been particular moody after their rendezvous with Hippolyta, when Roxton had chosen to walk with the Amazon to "discuss strategy," he had said. Looking up from the path, Veronica glanced back at the pair. Roxton and Hippolyta were pretty chummy; they laughed and joked. Glancing back at Marguerite's stormy face, she gave a deep sight. _Men! Would they never learn?_

Malone, Challenger and Marguerite took up the rear. Both of the men walked next to each other; engaged in light conversation. 

Marguerite, on the other hand, took her turn with the little fellow. Little Jason was fast asleep after nearly an hour of trudging through the forest. When he'd begun to stumble and whine, Malone had picked him up, only to have Jason reach out his arms to Marguerite. She had accepted the inevitable and took him. Now, his head rested against her shoulder, and his face was reddened. The overwhelming heat was not helping, and his blond hair was moist with sweat. 

Smoothing the soft blond hairs on his head, Marguerite gently pulled the sweat-soaked curls off of his face. Shifting him to her right shoulder, she shook her left arm to relieve the pins and needles she was experiencing. The little boy had woken up after his short nap in Marguerite's arms in such a foul mood that Marguerite had tried to set him down. His screaming temper tantrum had worn him out, and now here she was carrying the two year old child, who was more than capable of using his two feet_. So much for getting old, this child is going to be the death of me. _

She was trying her best to keep her mind from wondering about the two at the rear of the group. Jealousy reared its ugly head, in spite of the control she was desperately trying to exert on her emotions. Every laugh, every hand gesture was taken as an act of seduction. If it had been any other woman, she wouldn't had given a damn, but this one, she had sensed, way back then, that there was some sort of chemistry between them. But nonetheless she tried to forget what she had seen that night she had come to rescue him. All a ruse, he had said, but to her it had been more than that. _Just concentrate on the task at hand, _she scolded, berated herself for being childish_._ _Since when do you start behaving like a jealous schoolgirl? _

Straightening her backpack, Veronica continued with her musings. Tilting her head to the side, she rotated her shoulders to work out her kinks. Now where was I? Absent-mindedly she began to talk to herself; it was some bad habit she had developed all those years living on her own. Hearing the now familiar giggles, she turned to see what now had been so funny to elicit such irritating sound._ Oh no! She just didn't do that; _her eyes scanned the couple. In spite of the fact that Roxton was determinedly removing Hippolyta's hand from his arm, the picture they made at the moment was far from innocent. She turned to the brunette; if she had seen that there would be trouble. 

No, she hadn't seen it, occupied as she was in repositioning little Jason. Relief spread across Veronica's face. The last thing they needed now was a fight. And in spite of the Amazon's skills, Veronica was in no doubt that Marguerite could give just as much, or better, than she received, especially considering her feelings toward Hippolyta. Just then, a small breeze lifted her hair up off her shoulders; the cool sensation was received well.

The relief echoed throughout the group.

Marguerite shifted Jason yet again, and as she looked up, her eyes caught a disturbing sight. There it was! That impish grin that she despised was spread across Hippolyta's face; Marguerite stepped her pace up. _Just what the hell were they talking about? _If she could only eavesdrop on their conversation…just a few steps closer…

"Marguerite!" 

She had no choice but to stop. "Yes?" she said, gritting her teeth. Her irritated tone made Malone pause warily before coming towards her.

"Would you like me to take Darcy?" He offered. He could see that the weight of the sleeping child was beginning to wear on Marguerite.

"Thanks, my shoulder is killing me." She gently eased Jason (no point in trying to correct Malone in the child's name) off of her shoulder, gratefully handing the small boy over to her fellow explorer. Truth be known, she was exhausted to the core. Falling back to a much slower pace, she watched Hippolyta and Roxton attentively. She would only watch them, but if that woman overstepped her boundaries, there'd be hell to pay.

****************************

Just before the sun went down, the explorers found themselves escorted inside the Amazon camp, or what was left of it. Women and men were gathered around a fire. The atmosphere was solemn as people went about their own business, and children sat with their mothers, hearing tales of their last battles. Men sat with their wives enjoying the fading rays of sunshine. Visible scars of their last battle were apparent. 

Greeted enthusiastically by her people, Hippolyta hugged and talked with some of her comrades, she gestured to the explorers more than once. Some expressed their relief but other weren't as pleased to see them. After all, it had been their interference the first time that had prompted the men and women to try and work together, and that falling apart had allowed their enemy to attack them more easily. However, there were a few who were extremely happy to see the group.

"Ned!" A young woman cried as soon as she spotted him. 

Malone had heard his name being called out but it had been too late to react. Before he quite registered the owner of the voice, the Amazon woman had run over and embraced him, winding her arms tightly around his neck. Pulling away with no small effort, Malone's face was a bit flushed. 

"Phoebe!" he said with some hesitancy. He was pretty sure it was her; after all, he'd enjoyed her embrace the last time, but he didn't want to presume on her appearance.

The blonde woman nodded. 

She hadn't changed much; her hair was longer and her face a bit more sombre, but...

Marguerite wasn't the only one who noticed how Veronica's face abruptly drained of colour. Her countenance changed dramatically, as a scowl found it's way to her mouth. Marguerite tried to hide a smile. See how the tables had turned! Veronica should understand now just why Hippolyta made Marguerite so irritable.

Phoebe turned to the rest of the explorers. "Our people are so glad you've come to help us," she smiled. The smile dropped from her lips at her next words. "We don't know how longer can we survive their attacks." 

****************************

Morning dew blanketed the camp. The smoke of the recently quenched fire hung around the camp, mingling with the scent of wet earth and the appetising aroma of cooking meat. Women, men and children were busy with their tasks; there was so much to do in such little time. They had to move camp up river, where they would be protected by the two mountains on either side. Hippolyta was seen as a true leader. Her people expected so much from her; she was in charge now! Since Selena had been taken, a great amount of responsibility had been placed squarely on Hippolyta's shoulders. There was no rivalry between the men and woman now; they were equal. It not to say there hadn't been problems or misunderstandings, but they had risen above their problems and had worked out a great deal of their differences. Hippolyta had been instrumental in forcing her people to open their eyes and see how their fighting had weakened both of them, and how working together might be able to hold off their common enemy. 

As she surveyed their work, her eyes stopped on the three men. If there was anyone who could take them out of this mess was them. Her people had exacerbated the situation beyond reach; they had fought like savages, not caring how many lives they lost. In the end, they had ended up hurting themselves far more than they had solved anything. War was not the answer! They had agreed on that 2 years ago, but now everything they had work for was gone. She hoped that the explorers would be able to help her people start to rebuild their lives.

Across the camp, the flap of a tent flew open. Marguerite Krux greeted morning with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Considering the early hour and her distaste for morning in general, what she could muster was very little. Lack of sleep was evident on her frayed features; her normally rosy colour was replace by paleness, and faint bluish smudges like tiny bruises gathered around her lovely eyes. After a quick survey of the area, she headed to where the men were. Their talk last night had been straight to the point; their priority was to the prisoners and to Jason. They had to protect the child no matter what! The short time they'd had him had been enough to place him firmly in their hearts, and with the revelation that he was Challenger's son, they were even more determined that not one hair on his head would be harmed.

"Good morning, Marguerite!" Malone greeted her as she approached the group.

"What's so good about it, Ned?" she replied a bit grumpily. She greeted Challenger with a bit more warmth as she joined their little circle, but her eyes turned a little cooler when they rested on Roxton. He grinned cheekily, determinedly ignoring her sour attitude, and presented her with a piece of fresh fruit for breakfast. Surprised out of her bad temper, she graced him with a small smile as she accepted his offering.

"Seems you have everything figure out," Marguerite said, looking over the map they had been studying. She quickly popped the last morsel of food in her mouth and studied the map more carefully. She swallowed and looked up at the men. "When are we leaving?"

"Marguerite, I though we'd agreed that you were going with the rest of the camp." Roxton's voice held a trace of worry; he didn't want Marguerite taking on more danger than she had to. 

"Since when you do you decide what I do?" True, they had discussed that last night, but she had also made it clear that she was going. She wasn't about to leave Roxton to Hippolyta's tender mercies. 

"I thought we agreed on it." His eyes pleaded for an understanding.

"I agreed to no such thing," she retorted, doing her best to ignore the appeal in his voice. She was determined; they would not deter her from going no matter how many excuses they could make. Turning her back she crossed her arms in a defensive pose. This was Marguerite's way of avoiding eye contact. She knew that if she looked into Roxton's eyes, he would have her convinced to follow his plan in a second. "Are you implying that I'm not capable of defending myself?" 

"Marguerite, you know that that's not what I meant! I never met someone as strong and resourceful as you. That's why there's no one I could think of who could better handle trouble if the enemy tried to come on the camp before we were in position." He reached over and pulled her to him. Challenger and Malone quickly averted their eyes and pretended they weren't listening. She was stiff in his arms, and he tried to soothe her. "Besides, if we do get in trouble, I know that I can count on you to get us out of it." He felt her relax, and she turned and looked him in the eye. 

"No, you are right. Who better than to make sure that you three don't make a bigger mess of things than me?" Her tone was light, but her eyes were worried. She smiled at him and took his face in her hands. 

"Be careful," she whispered, for his ears only. Swiftly glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she kissed her warrior. He gave her a blindingly bright smile and turned to join the scouting party.

Watching the men and woman leave, Marguerite sighed and turned back to the camp. Across the way, Veronica smiled at the brunette. She had seen Marguerite and Roxton's goodbye, and she would do her best to keep Marguerite's mind off of the others that had left. "Let's get going!" she called to the heiress. "We need to get these people ready to fight!" 

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"So?" Hippolyta joined Roxton and Challenger. The trek to the enemy village had been tense but uneventful, and the advance party was now waiting in the trees a short distance from the walls surrounding the village. 

"Feeding time," Roxton whispered, as he looked through the spyglass. Inside the village a woman and a man entered a small building. The woman, with the help of the man, carried a medium size cauldron into the room and disappeared from view. 

Malone and Damien came through the bushes, ready to report on the guard situation.

"How many?" 

"At least a dozen men," Damien reported. He was a young man, ready and eager to get into battle. "The best way to attack them will be after sundown when most of them would have gone off to sleep." He voiced his opinion on where best to breach the wall, with Malone concurring.

****************************

The rope wouldn't hold on, or so Malone thought, as he watched Roxton for the third time try to loop it around one of the corner posts of the wall. 

"Allow me," Damien offered. In one swing he succeeded in what Roxton had failed. The rope landed tightly around the post. Securing the rope, the men began the climb. 

Steadily Malone climbed, hand over hand, trying to keep as silent as possible. As he reached the top, a strong arm pulled him over and onto a small parapet that ran a few feet below the top of the wall. "Shush" Roxton warned, from the still position he held on the parapet. The darkness of the night served them well, as the two watchmen failed their vigil. Climbing down to the ground they hid themselves between buildings, grateful for the obscure darkness of the night.

"This is where we split. Challenger, you're with me." The older man moved over to stand next to Hippolyta and Damien, while Malone moved over next to Roxton. The hunter quickly checked on their supplies, then began to hand out the weapons.

"Remember, only use these if necessary," he warned as he handed them each a rifle. Hippolyta and Damien moved away silently, and Roxton and Malone started to go as well. However, they had not gone more than a few feet before Malone's booted foot accidentally kicked a small pebble against the wall. A couple of guards stopped suddenly at the small noise, then turned towards the explorers.

"Oh great! Stay down," Roxton motioned, as two guards made their way towards them.

****************************

At the crack of dawn, Marguerite woke. Her heart was pounding. She was afraid, and she had the bad feeling that she knew why. She quickly shook awake her sleeping companion. Veronica came awake suddenly, her own heart thudding, and one look at Marguerite confirmed her suspicions. They both knew the feeling all too well. "We have to go," Marguerite whispered, and Veronica nodded. Both women bore the same look; they knew, somehow, that the men had been captured. And soon the enemy would come for the rest of the group. 

"I have an idea," Marguerite said, and her lips twitched with an air of danger. Veronica merely raised an eyebrow. Marguerite's ideas, while sometimes strange, usually worked. She could only hope that they would work now. The lives of their friends depended on it. 

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To be continued in the last and final chapter...

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